22. KATE
22
KATE
I wake up hornier than I’ve ever been. I’m slick between the thighs and I could have sworn I was back in the hall with Nico only a second ago. I blink, but he’s not here. I’m alone.
Was last night real ? A harrowing sensation floods my veins, swiftly followed by a desperate need to crawl out of my own skin. Shame… embarrassment, whatever it is, the rush is so intense my head pounds like I’ve got another hangover.
And yet it was everything I’d hoped for and more; the strength of Nico’s arms around me, the warmth of his hard body, the sound of his voice, heavy with arousal. Fuck it, shame be damned. I want more of it. More of him… I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
I check my phone.
No messages.
But then, he’s not exactly a texting kind of guy, is he? No chance of finding a ‘ Good morning, sweetheart. How are you? I miss you ’, kind of message from Nico Hawkston .
I pull the pillow over my head and let out a long groan. A thumping on the door to my room echoes the pounding in my head. I lift the pillow. “What?”
“Kate?” Mum’s voice is nearing hysterical, which isn’t a good sign.
The door swings open, and Mum enters in a flurry of hair rollers and green face mask, her slim physique wrapped in a pink silk dressing gown.
“Get up. This is all your fault. Nico’s run off in the night. Left a note saying he had a family emergency. But I know it was because you were so rude at dinner. Making a scene.” She slaps a hand to her forehead, her curlers shaking like Medusa’s snakes. “You’ve always been an attention-seeker, ever since you were tiny. Your father indulged you. I hold him entirely responsible for how you’ve turned out. No wonder Nico left.”
I barely hear the insults because the sound of Nico’s name repeatedly barked at me in Mum’s highly strung voice has me feeling nauseous. The truth of what happened between us last night burns in my lower belly like a spoonful of arsenic.
“I’m sure Nico genuinely had somewhere he needed to be,” I say, hoping Mum can’t hear the uncertain tremor in my voice. If I was the one with a car, I might have fled last night too.
Maybe it was because of me he left, but not for the reason Mum thinks.
“Oh rubbish,” she snaps. “It was you who scared him off. I’ve never seen such bad behaviour. If you could have at least tried to put the comfort of our guests first, held your tongue for a moment…” Mum sighs like I am the most trying child in the world and she’s so hard done by purely because I exist. “If you could have been a little more accommodating, Nico might still be here.”
I blush. If Mum knew exactly how accommodating I had been last night, she would be screaming at me for being a hussy.
Loose women never get the guy . That’s what Mum thinks anyway, and it’s hard to shrug off a mother’s opinions, even when you’re in your late twenties. They cling like a bad smell.
Maybe that’s why I rarely get laid.
Another one of Mum’s opinions rears its beastly head; a man of that calibre would never be interested in you. Not seriously, at least . But those eyes… the way he looked at me… The pressure of his hard cock against my thigh—
“Are you listening to me?” Mum squawks, hands on her hips.
No , I want to say. I’m thinking of all the reasons you’d tell me the man who held me in his arms as I came last night won’t want anything more to do with me .
“Sorry,” I mumble, before rolling over and pulling the duvet up to my chin.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Mum says, bustling across the room and yanking my covers off. “Get up. We have too much to do before the guests arrive.”
The rest of the day drags as the party approaches. Mum has hardly spoken to me since she harassed me out of bed, and Curtis has been avoiding me since the incident at the pool yesterday. Jack’s been so busy helping Mum get everything ready that I haven’t had a chance to speak to him.
Part of me wishes I’d taken Nico up on his offer to drive me back to London, but if I’d done that, then we wouldn't have shared that crazy, intense, mind-blowing moment in the hall.
By the time the party is in full swing, I’m grateful for the distraction.
There must be a hundred people here, scattered across the lawn, all quaffing champagne and munching on canapes, which, incidentally, are delicious.
My cheeks ache from fake-smiling.
It’s boiling, and my dress is sticking to my thighs. Damn it . I fan my face with my hand, but it makes no difference. The sky is bright blue, not a cloud to be seen, and the air smells like freshly cut grass.
Jack somehow looks composed and handsome in a linen shirt and burgundy chino shorts, a neat panama hat perched on his dark hair. He approaches across the lawn, concern etched on his face. “About last night…”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t know what to say.”
“I get it. You don’t want to rock the boat. I wouldn’t if I were you either. Your boat is awesome.” I smile, but Jack doesn’t smile back.
With one hand, he lifts his hat from the pinch and re-settles it into his thick hair, lips folded in on one another. “Mum gets these ideas in her head and they drive her mad. I think she wants grandchildren and knows I’m nowhere near ready for that shit, so she’s got a bee in her bonnet about you approaching thirty and being single.”
“There’s always something.”
Jack toes the grass with his suede loafer, observing the motion for a moment before his shrewd gaze cuts to me. “What was going on with you and Nico yesterday?”
Keep calm. Keep calm . “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on. I know he said he had a family emergency, but the timing is a bit… suspicious. You and Mum get all weird, Nico steps in… the next thing he’s driving off in the middle of the night. He’s not normally one to run away.” Jack takes a swig of his Pimms, emptying half the glass in one go. “Did something happen?”
My body tingles with fear. I glance at him, but he’s peering into his glass, fishing out a strawberry which he pops into his mouth.
“No,” I lie.
“Hmm.” He chews on the strawberry. “You need to be careful with Nico. He’s not just a family friend anymore. He’s your boss.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Jack chuckles. “You should have seen Mum’s face when she found his note. I thought she was going to have an apoplectic fit, and I’d be left mopping bits of her brain off the floor. Either that or it was going to be your brain after she killed you. She was bloody furious.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s always furious with me. I give up trying to please her. There’s no point. Plus”—I elbow Jack—“she has you to make up for all my disappointments.”
Another platter of canapes goes by and I snatch one before it disappears.
As if she knows we’re talking about her, Mum rushes through the crowd towards us, her face like thunder.
I nudge Jack and nod at Mum. “Something’s up.”
“Bloody Curtis,” she hisses. “His art collection arrived too late to go on the walls and the van’s just arrived. Right in the middle of the party.” She grabs Jack’s arm and yanks it. “And to make matters worse, it’s a great big white thing with the most awful things spray-painted all over it. Help them get the stuff out so they can drive away before the guests see. Or the neighbours.” She tugs so furiously at Jack’s arm that I’m surprised it stays in the socket.
“How bad can it be? What does it say?” I ask.
“Stop smirking,” Mum snaps at me. “This is not funny. I’m trying to host a respectable event.”
Jack’s eyes light up and he stares at something over Mum’s head. “It says ‘ you mother-fucking piece of —’”
Mum squeaks, and I turn to see the van in question. Foul language and offensive doodles are clearly visible on the paintwork.
Curtis is on the gravel, waving his arms at the driver like some kind of traffic control officer.
“Is that… a huge, erect penis?” I say, unable to conceal my amusement.
Mum yelps, covering her face with both hands. “Oh, heaven forbid.”
“Yup.” Jack’s belly-laughing now, pointing at the splashes spouting out from the oversized tip. “It’s ejaculating.”
Heads are turning, looking at the van. Someone laughs and a few of the older guests gasp and tut disapprovingly. Mum grips Jack’s arm again. “Do something.”
Jack shakes his head, biting his bottom lip to stop laughing. “Hold this,” he says, giving me his Pimms, which I promptly finish as he runs towards Curtis and the van.
“Oh, this is awful,” Mum moans, pulling at the huge pearl earring speared through her right ear. “I tried so hard to make sure everything was perfect, and then this happens. I’m going to be a laughingstock.”
“You could have left Dad’s art on the walls and avoided this entirely.”
“Oh, you little beast.” Her voice is so shrill that people nearby start looking over at us. Noticing them, she lowers her voice. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Oh no,” I say, straining to keep the laughter out of my voice as I take my phone from my handbag and snap a picture of the offensive vehicle. Elly and Marie will love this. “It’s dreadful. Truly.”